Rebirth
by scully8746
Summary: The meeting at the beginning of Season 6 that Joss wouldn't give us...


::Title:**Rebirth**::  
::Author:Chrissy::  
::Email:scully8746@hotmail.com::  
::Summary:The missing scene after Buffy's return::  
::Spoilers:Companion to "Champion"::

  
  
  


He prayed the sun wouldn't come out. It was too beautiful, and the perfect winter scene, strange as it was in California. Silvery white snowflakes floated down from the sky, settling gently down against the ground, blindingly white as far as the eye could see, the perfect winter landscape.

He caught a snowflake on his glove, and stared at the tiny intricate pattern woven of lace. The contrast of the black wool and white ice was strangely unsettling; the two did not belong together, and he knew it. But how could he ever explain it? Whatever déjà vu was bothering him, he knew that it was much pleasanter than the reality that awaited his consciousness.

He laughed, a deep rumbling he forced from the chest and up through his throat. It felt good to release it into the fresh snowy breeze. The valley was empty; his laughter carried, he could hear it joined by another voice. Together the harmony of their contentment rode the wind, and for awhile, it was easy to pretend that it was real. He knew she shouldn't be here, knew that it had to be his imagination, but something told him otherwise. She smiled, and he was struck by the raw beauty of the scene. This was nature as God had intended it, he was sure of that. 

He examined the scene from a distance, caught in the never-never-land of almost-awareness, that stage of sleep when dreams aren't quite reality, but the next thing to it. He could see his own body as he moved through the snow, grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind him. He watched himself forget his inhibitions and enjoy the day, and the beauty that surrounded him. 

The dreams never lasted. Never-never-land suddenly flew away and Angel was left with the stark reality of his situation. But he knew that if he kept his eyes closed, just for a few more minutes, his visions would not leave him. Wasn't it always that way with dreams? He angrily pushed the questions, the thoughts, the distractions from his mind. If he didn't concentrate he would wake up, inevitable though he knew it was.

Eventually, his eyes opened, and Angel faced another day of eternity.

~*~*~

Cordelia was humming. She didn't think she'd ever been happier in her life. Business was finally going well... her acting career was just starting to take off... and perhaps the most surprising thing of all: her date with David Nabbit had gone unbelievably well. She'd been hesitant to accept when, a week before, the computer genius had stopped by to stutter his - obviously much-rehearsed - invitation. But something about his desperate air, his complete sincerity, and best of all at the time, his financial security, had persuaded her to say yes. After all, if it was really boring, nothing was compelling her to accept a second date. 

But it *hadn't* been boring! It had been *fun*! David had taken her bowling, and then they'd gone out to a four-star restaurant for dinner. She'd felt absolutely ridiculous walking into Le Parisienner in a jean skirt and a tank top, but the maître d' hadn't even blinked. They had been ushered directly to a private room in the back of the restaurant, and offered nothing but the finest selection of wines, the most delicious food Cordelia had ever tasted, and service beyond compare.

The whole evening long, David had obviously gone out of his way to maintain Cordy's interest. He'd listened to her talk on and on about acting, and had never once interrupted, only stared at her with huge, dreaming eyes, his chin on his hand, his lips curving up in the most content expression she'd ever seen him make.

Of course, after awhile, she'd caught herself, and - after blushingly assuring him that he could shut her up at any time - had asked him about the computer business. David had seemed stunned, like a child on Christmas morning, rushing downstairs and discovering an entire roomful of gifts. He spent the next hour describing - in layman's terms, for Cordelia's benefit - the features of a new Internet search engine he was designing. Cordy was fascinated; it sounded incredibly useful, especially to someone in the detective business. She had been shocked when the maitre d' - their personal attendant all evening long - had apologetically murmured that the restaurant was closing. David had seemed as surprised as she.

But probably the most surprising part of the whole event had been early the next morning, when Cordelia had woken to discover a dozen red roses on her doorstep, with an amazingly sweet message: "Had a wonderful time. Thank you for the best night of my life. -David." That had sent Cordelia reeling. She'd sunk straight into her couch, wondering how it was that no matter how many times she'd met the man before, she'd never seen this side of him.

The sound of the phone ringing startled Cordelia out of her glowing reverie. "Angel Investigations... we help the hopeless...," she murmured, still somewhat lost in thought. She leaned on the counter, her chin in her hand.

The voice that answered her shattered any fantasy she was still entertaining. "Cordelia? Is that you?"

It was impossible, utterly unthinkable, but Cordy recognized the voice immediately. She swallowed. "B-Buffy?" The warm numbness that had encompassed her since the roses that morning melted away, as she heard her supposedly dead friend swear under her breath on the other end.

"I'm going to take it from the shock I just registered that you *didn't* get the message," Buffy said apologetically.

Cordelia pressed the 'Play' button on the answering machine, and Willow's voice crossed the telephone line. "Hey, guys, it's Willow. I hate to do this to you over the phone, but, um... God, I don't know how to say it! [giggle] Uh, Buffy's alive! We... We brought her back, and, uh... Well, call me for the details. Bye!"

Cordy pressed 'Rewind'. "Nope, didn't hear that before," she said numbly. "I've been a little distracted today. Forgot to... Check the messages..."

"Cordy, are you going to be okay?" Buffy asked, concerned. "I'm really sorry you found out this way. I guess it's got to be a shock, just me calling out of the blue..."

"You could say that," she agreed. "But then... Well, at least Angel didn't answer the phone, right? Ever seen a vampire pass out before?"

Buffy laughed nervously. "Speaking of Angel... Um..." She swallowed. "How is he?"

"Coping," Cordy replied. "Thank God he didn't... well... He's lived a long time. He knew better than to do something... Stupid. Stupid, like in the sunbathing sense of the word."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed, although her tone was somewhat hollow. "So he wasn't too... Depressed or anything. I mean, moving on. That's good."

"Wait a minute," Cordy interjected sharply. "I didn't say he wasn't depressed. He just didn't try to kill himself. That's okay with you, right? I mean, as it is, he wasn't here all summer, off communing with his inner self in Tibet or... God knows where."

"Well, that sounds a little closer to home," Buffy agreed. "But Cordy, is he... I mean, um, can I talk to him?"

Cordelia smiled. She'd been wondering how long it would take her to ask. "He'll call you back, okay? Let me just go tell him first, so it's not too much of a shock."

"Sounds good," Buffy agreed nervously. "Uh... I'm at the house... You know the number, right?"

"I know," Cordy assured her. "Don't go too far. I'll tell him right now."

"Okay," Buffy agreed. "Well... Bye."

"Bye." Cordelia hung up the phone, and smiled slowly; her good day just got remarkably better.

~*~*~

She paused outside of Angel's door, and hesitated. Excited as she was, she hadn't given much thought to what to say. Tentatively, she tapped her knuckles against the door. "Angel?"

There was a muffled call from the inside which sounded close enough to "Come in!" that Cordelia pushed open the door.

"I said don't come in!" Angel called quickly.

"Sorry!" Cordelia yelped, jumping back outside. A moment later she tapped again. "Are you decent yet?"

This time the door opened from the inside, and Angel smiled wryly at her, wrapped hastily in a dark blue bathrobe, his hair still wet from the shower.

"Sorry," Cordelia said again, blushing slightly as she followed him back through his bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom, "but I have some... *really* big news."

"And that would be...?" Angel prompted, squirting a glob of blue toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

"Buffy's alive."

Angel very deliberately spat out the toothpaste, rinsed his mouth out, and turned around to face her. His face was stony, and his scowl was the fiercest Cordy had seen since Darla had been in the picture.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, puzzled by his reaction.

"No, I don't think I did." His disbelief was evident.

"Buffy's *alive*," Cordelia repeated gently. "Uh... She wants you to call her back. Soon. I mean, like, she's waiting by the phone, so whenever you're-"

Angel swept by her, out of the bedroom, down the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time.

"-Ready," Cordy finished, jogging after him. By the time she caught up with him, Angel was already dialing, and Wesley and Gunn were walking in through the door. 

"She's at her house," Cordelia told Angel. He barely even nodded, just continued to set a speed record for punching buttons.

"We caught that Shavrock demon!" Gunn announced, swinging his favorite homemade axe around. He winced as yellow demon entrails flew off the weapon and onto the marble floor.

"Well, that was... smooth," Wesley said, somewhat smugly, shooting Gunn a wry smile.

Gunn ignored Wesley and turned to Angel. "Hey, not that I mind, but usually an announcement like that gets a little recognition... Big demon, little humans, turned him into a pulverized hunk of meat...?"

"Damn it!" Angel exclaimed, slamming the phone back down. He turned to Cordelia. "It says the number is disconnected. Did they get a new one or something over the summer?"

Cordelia ran over to her desk. "Yeah, actually, I forgot about that... Hold on a sec..."

"Did I miss something?" Gunn asked, confused.

"Willow changed the number so people would stop calling and asking for Buffy. Dawn couldn't deal with it," Cordy explained, still digging through the numerous papers that covered her desk.

Wesley looked up, startled. "Dawn? What happened? Is she-"

"She's fine," Cordy said quickly. "Anyway, it wasn't Dawn who called." She smiled excitedly. "Buffy's alive!"

"What?" Wesley gasped. "When did this happen?"

"Just a few minutes ago!" Cordy said excitedly. "Well, I don't know if that's when they brought her back, but she just called, and- ooh! I found it!" She ran over to Angel, and handed him a yellow Post-It note. He finished dialing the number, and all four waited impatiently.

At last the phone began to ring, and then Buffy picked up. "Hello?"

Angel stared at Cordelia in disbelief. He had known that she wouldn't deliberately play this kind of prank on him, but before now, he hadn't known that Cordelia hadn't been taken in, too. He cleared his throat and tried to speak, but words escaped him. How did he say what he wanted to say? What he'd wanted to say for months now? What *did* he want to say?

"Angel?"

He nodded slowly, beginning to smile. "Uh... Yeah. Um, hi."

She giggled. "Hi."

"So, uh...?"

"Yeah..."

Cordelia elbowed Gunn, who was about to laugh, and smiled sympathetically at Angel. She ushered the other two back outside into the dusky twilight of sunset. "Let's give him some space. We can go celebrate! Dinner's on me!"

"Yeah, where, at McDonald's?" Gunn alluded to the brunette's thrifty streak.

An hour later, they arrived back at the hotel, and were surprised and somewhat alarmed to find it empty. A note greeted them at the desk, scrawled hastily on the back of Buffy's telephone number. "Be back tomorrow. Don't forg. check Shav. *spawn*. A."

~*~*~

Angel glanced at his watch again. The surface reflected the fluorescent lights of the diner's ceiling, and he had to turn his wrist to face his dark shirt before he could read it. 11:53:24. Exactly thirty-seven seconds since he'd last checked. 

At this rate, it would be *hours* before midnight.

He sighed and turned to the dozing old woman behind the counter and pointed to his espresso cup. "Could I have another...?"

Without a word, she heaved herself up from the stool she sat on, hobbled over to the counter, refilled the mug, sat back down, and went back to sleep.

Angel smiled until he tasted the espresso. Then he grimaced. 'Just as bad as the first cup...' Still, it was a welcome distraction.

A bell behind him tinkled, and Angel turned so quickly that he spilled hot espresso down the front of his sweater. "Aack!" he gasped, quickly grabbing napkins from the dispenser on the cherry-red counter to mop it up.

A young man in jeans and a flannel shirt stood in the doorway. "Sorry. Didn' mean to startle ya." He turned to the pink-clad woman behind the counter, who was suddenly wide awake and batting her eyelids at the visitor. "Well, hey there, Miz Bev! Haven' seen you in awhile!"

Bev blushed a deep maroon color that contrasted sharply with her silver hair, and smiled even wider. "Hey yourself, Ned. Where've you been? I don't think you've been in for a month!" She busied herself with the complicated coffee/cappuccino/latte maker, pressing buttons and pulling levers while she talked over her shoulder. "The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks, Bev." Ned settled down at the counter as Angel finished throwing away the brown-stained napkins. He stared down at his sweater, which was now littered with little white paper crumbs.

"Damn," he muttered. He glanced at his watch again. 11:54.

"You waitin' for someone?" Ned guessed.

Angel smiled slightly. "Yeah... She's supposed to be here soon, uh... Well... I mean, I really don't want to miss her... Do you think you could watch for her? Blonde, pretty, about this tall?" He held his hand up to his chin. "Her name's Buffy... I just want to go clean myself up."

Ned grinned knowingly. "No problem."

"Thanks." Angel dashed to the bathroom.

Bev finished with the coffee-apparatus and pushed a steaming cup over to Ned. "Here you go, sweetie." About three sips into the steaming beverage, the door-bell tinkled again, and Ned turned to eye the newcomer. Blonde, pretty, the right height... "You must be Buffy!"

Quick, too. She turned to face him, and appeared confused. "Yes? Hi... Uh, do I know you?"

Ned smiled charmingly and leapt off his stool. "Oh, no, don't worry. I'm Edward Cummings," he said, his speech taking on a collegiate perfection.

"Nice to meet you," Buffy said, shaking his hand. She still appeared confused.

"Your friend's in the bathroom. Asked me to watch for you," Ned explained quickly. "So... Sit down! Would you like a cup of coffee? Bev makes the best coffee in the world!" Buffy took a seat at the counter and Ned leaned up close behind her, whispering in her ear. "The trick is to get regular coffee. You start going for cappuccino, espresso... Well, I love Bev, but..." He laughed quietly.

Buffy smiled too, somewhat uncomfortable. She could feel his hot breath on her neck. Fortunately, at that moment, Angel appeared from the bathroom. Ned straightened up quickly. "Hey! Uh... She's here!"

Angel hurried around the counter-corner and over to where Buffy was sitting. He stopped a few feet away and smiled, somewhat shyly. "So, um... You found the place okay?"

"Yep," Buffy affirmed, a bit disappointed. 'He could've at least *hugged* me... I mean, people don't come back from the dead every day! Not still living and breathing, anyway...'

Angel approached her cautiously. "I... So... How are you doing?"

"Good," Buffy said, more cheerful than she felt. "You?"

"Good." Angel stopped, unsure of what to do. He could feel Bev's eyes studying him, and uncomfortably noted that Ned's were on Buffy. "So... Did you want coffee or something?"

Buffy stood quickly. "Actually, I was thinking that we could talk." 'Alone!' her eyes said plainly. 

"Sure," Angel agreed. He quickly grabbed his jacket and tossed a few bills on the counter for the two horrible espressos.

Ned grinned coarsely as the two were leaving the building, and pulled Angel aside for a moment. "There's a motel just down the road," he suggested quietly. "You know, for *talking*."

Angel nodded distractedly. "Thanks... Uh... Ned." A few moments later, he would understand what Ned meant and consider half-seriously the idea of going back into the diner to give the trucker a piece of his mind.

Angel lead Buffy across the parking lot to his car and opened the passenger door for her. "Where do you want to go?" he asked, sliding in behind the wheel.

Buffy grinned, and he could see her eyes twinkling even in the dark. "How about that motel Ned suggested?" She began to laugh. "You know, for *talking*? Could you believe that? I thought I was going to die!"

Angel stared at her, and the realization that dawned on him quickly blossomed into anger. Buffy silenced him with a tired glance, though.

"People do that, Angel. It's not that big a deal." They were both quiet for a long moment. Angel was struck by the utter exhaustion of her voice, her gaze, her posture. This wasn't Buffy as he remembered her, even after her mother had died. "What's wrong?" he asked her finally.

She stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "What *isn't* wrong? I come back after being *dead* for a summer... Look, I know it's selfish, but I can't help it. Nobody even *missed* me! I come back, and Dawn's closer to my best friend than me, my friends are a big close-knit bunch I can't even touch anymore, I'm completely *helpless* - You know me, Angel. I have *never* been helpless! But I just don't even know where to begin anymore."

Angel reached in the darkness to find her hand. He squeezed it tightly in his. "It's not selfish," he said softly. "Truthfully? The fact that everyone grew that close is probably because you weren't there, more than anything else. They needed each other, Buffy. They didn't have you."

"I didn't really think of it that way," Buffy admitted. She smiled bitterly. "But it still doesn't really help me wedge myself back into my old life any better."

"I know," Angel said sympathetically.

"How could you?" she responded bluntly.

"Because I've been there, too. Remember?" He stopped, afraid that he'd crossed the line. Angel's stint as the villain of the picture, Acathla, Buffy's choice, and Angel's subsequent summer in hell weren't open topics for discussion between the two, nor had they ever been since his return. At the time, neither had known how or felt comfortable enough to broach the subject, and eventually time had mended its wounds, leaving only bitter dark traces of a scar.

But instead of being angry, Buffy smiled uncertainly. "I-I remember." She stared at his face, searching for some vestige of the anger or bitterness she knew had to carry over from her decision. How could he not? He'd put his trust in her, faithful as a child, and she'd killed him "for the greater good", whatever that was. It hadn't felt like a very good reason at the time.

Angel cleared his throat. "I'm just saying that you can talk to me if you need to. You know that, don't you?"

"Why do you think I came?" she responded quietly.

"*Is* that why you came?" Angel questioned.

Buffy could feel herself falling. She knew it, she'd known it on the telephone, and here she was. She'd come partly for advice, for a sympathetic ear, but she'd come for that feeling in her stomach, too. Something to assure her that not everything had changed, that some things would, in fact, never change. Something to assure her that somewhere in the world, somebody still loved her, wanted her, had missed her, was glad to have her back. She needed reassurance that it hadn't all been for nothing, that she'd given up bliss for a good reason, and not just an empty lifetime of used chances and lucky numbers that had run out a long time before.

"I'm glad I came," she murmured.

Angel's hands hesitantly found their accustomed places on her face, her arms, her back. He pulled her closer, rejoicing in the feel of living, breathing, crying, laughing, sleeping, eating Buffy beneath his fingertips. Their lips brushed, timidly at first, and then more and more passionately.

It couldn't go on forever. The thought sat, nagging like a cancer in the back of their minds. They belonged to the world, to their duties, and only lastly to each other. Someday, maybe. But not now. Someday was all they had, and the two clung to it as never before, their last trace of hope, but a trace nonetheless.

After a moment, Angel spoke. "What you said earlier, about wedging yourself back into your old life?" He shook his head slowly. "That's... it's not working for you because it wasn't meant to work. This *isn't* your old life, Buffy. This is your second chance. Not many people get them. You're lucky you do."

"Lucky?" Buffy questioned, somewhat angrily. "You think I'm *lucky* to be back on this... *hellhole* of a planet?" She stopped, afraid to continue. She didn't want his sympathy, and she certainly didn't want Angel's envy.

Angel solved the problem for her. "You were in heaven." It wasn't a question.

"I was at peace." She stopped again, just thinking about it. "I... Do you know what that's like? To be at peace? Perfectly... Not even happy, just *content*? Like there's nothing left to do, but it's not boredom... I don't know, I'm probably not even explaining it right."

"I think I understand," Angel replied. He turned to her. "That's not anything you've ever had in life, is it?"

"I don't think it's something anyone's ever had," Buffy replied honestly. "But no, I certainly haven't." A tear ran from her eye. "Do you know what the guide told me out in the desert? Last year, I was so afraid that I couldn't love anymore... That being the Slayer made me hard... That guide, the powers, whoever it was... They told me that death was my gift." She leaned closer to him, speaking quickly now. "When they told me... I didn't understand it. I thought they meant that death was my gift to demons, that it was the only thing that I had to give on this planet." Her voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. "Do you have any idea how horrible I felt? Even if it was demons... Angel, death is evil. I mean, it's what I worked so hard to prevent, and then, like that, to hear that it was all that I was doing in the long run..." She stopped for a moment, calmer. "And then, when I realized what I had to do, it all made sense, I thought. I felt better, standing up there on that platform. I knew exactly what I had to do, and I thought that I understood. Death was my gift. It was my gift to my friends, to Dawn. My death was my gift to them. My death, and they would all live, and go on." She was quiet for another moment, and seemed almost afraid to continue. "But Angel..." She couldn't look him in the eye. "Angel, I thought I understood it, but I didn't. Not until I was at peace. I-I finally understood. *Truly* understood. I got it. It made sense, and I was grateful. Death was *my* gift. Not to give, but... It was my gift, from the Powers That Be, my reward. *Death*. Peace. Death was their gift for me. That's what it meant. Angel, it was wonderful. I didn't have to worry anymore, I didn't have to fight. For once, just for *once* in *forever*, I didn't have to be the strong one anymore." She began to cry again, softly. "And now... Angel, I *knew* it. And now, am I supposed to doubt that I ever understood at all? Willow only had good intentions. I know she was just trying to help me. She thought I was in hell. And what you said about a second chance, it's all true. But I can't help feeling like... *Why*? Why me? Why a second chance? Why *here*? Did I not do my job right the first time around? Is this some kind of punishment, like... am I supposed to repeat this life over and over until I do it right? What mistake could I possibly have *made* that would make me go through all of this again? Or is there any greater purpose at all? What if this is all just one big mess that was never supposed to happen, and only did because of Willow and her magic tricks? What if this new life... what if it *is* a second chance, and I don't really deserve it at all?"

Angel didn't know what to say. He felt angry for her - at Willow, Xander, the Powers That Be. What she said was *true*, all of it. If anyone in the world deserved peace, peace away from the cold, dark, miserable planet they were doomed to inhabit, it was Buffy. So she'd made mistakes. Didn't everybody? And even the mistakes that she had made, they were never malicious, never deliberate. They certainly didn't deserve to be punished.

"I don't know what to tell you," he admitted finally. "I'm sorry." His thumb traced the curve of her mouth. "I know you hate it, and I'm so angry that you have to suffer... But at the same time, I'm so grateful just to get to see you again. I know it's selfish, but I can't help it. The summer was horrible. I know... Even before, we hadn't seen each other every day for... A long time. But it was..." He sighed. "I didn't know what I was fighting for anymore. You know, I've always said I fight for the Powers That Be, for the victims, that I'm... I don't know. I was fighting for redemption. I've done so many terrible things, and then... I met you, and you were perfect. I was fighting for redemption, but you were a part of that. Like, if I could make you proud of me, if I could touch that perfection, then I was on the right track, I was doing the right thing..." He laughed self-consciously. "I know I'm not making any sense."

"No, I get it," Buffy told him, taking his hand in hers. She smiled. "I'm so glad I called you. I know it sounds dumb and cliché, but you always know how to make me feel better."

Angel smiled. "It's not dumb. But I don't believe it for a second. You're not going to feel better until you talk to Willow and Xander and Dawn and feel close to them again. You need your friends, Buffy. Everybody does. It's pointless to hide from that. In the end, it's not going to matter why you're back on Earth, who brought you back, or whether it was a mistake or destiny. You're strong. You'll always be strong. Use that strength. Fight. Again. It's all we can do."

Buffy reached across the seat to hug him tightly. "I love you." She smiled, somewhat tearfully. "Do you think if I was 248 years old, I'd be as wise as you are?"

Angel smiled back at her, running his fingers through a strand of her hair. "Buffy, you're a lot wiser than I'll ever be. It took me more than two centuries to learn what you knew when you were eighteen. Everything I know about fighting I learned from you. So I know you're going to make it."


End file.
